


In Mockery of Olympus

by Itachi_S_Lucius



Series: Goblet of Greek Mythology [1]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Greek Mythology, Cruelty, F/M, Forgivness, Greek Mythology - Freeform, M/M, Prequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2019-02-26 11:28:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13234746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Itachi_S_Lucius/pseuds/Itachi_S_Lucius
Summary: Why this is the story of how the legendary Queen Naruto of Necromancy and King Madara of the Dead came to be. Their romance was not one of simplicity. In the terms of a lax man, infidelity was expected of the Gods, so indeed, how did they remain true to each other when sex and indulgence were rampant with their counterparts? They had with them at their aid the tale of a most extravagance, a love story that could compare with no other of their time.





	In Mockery of Olympus

**Author's Note:**

> A prequel of A Goblet For the Queen

There were things one learned when growing within the underworld. It could be spoken of in simple understanding of their own River of Souls. Mortals were weak, those who surcame to the pleasures and rot of their own flesh were ever cursed to remain affiliated to such willful, wasteful, wiles. None of them had been a mortal, nor desire never stirred their path. It was a plain fact, and the more that was understood the more fruitful lives could be for all in their hollow. 

 

The same could not be said of the Gods and Goddess above. It was whispered within the hallowed gardens and mocked in the halls of Madara that the Olympians spent their days in servitude, green with envy at the mortals willful destruction. No one sought to clear the rumour, though it was heeded, not with caution, but with belief that the mortals residing in ignorance held the eternal envy of the Higher Gods. 

 

There was however, one amongst all of the Underworld whom held this rumour to be fact. That God was Naruto of the Underworld, its future Queen and Mother of the Heirs. He was a man without any compassion given to those who claimed themselves higher. Mortals were but the maggots of life’s unstraining eye, with a lesser place then the bugs themselves. Loathing creeped underneath his skin at the very mention of a mortal’s quality of mind, for to him there was none. 

 

Why this is the story of how the legendary Queen Naruto of Necromancy and King Madara of the Dead came to be. Their romance was not one of simplicity. In the terms of a lax man, infidelity was expected of the Gods, so indeed, how did they remain true to each other when sex and indulgence were rampant with their counterparts? They had with them at their aid the tale of a most extravagance, a love story that could compare with no other of their time. 

* * *

 

 

It was known that Naruto was one of the exotic beauties in the Underworld. Desired by Gods and few Goddesses within their realm. Be that truth, his beauty was known, as much was his cruelty. He had born arms on the battlefield at a megar age discussed of only ten cycles, he knew well the stick of bloodshed yet feared it not for his knowledge of battle garnered a respect from Indra God of the Dead, whom had told of tales of his few but great battles with the beasts. This instilled in him a taste for warfare and a aura of calm insanity that drove many astray, a true child of the Underworld he managed himself in isolation and sought not the company of men or women to warm his bed.  

 

Know was it, that he enjoyed the grace of sun that warmed the land in summer, a warm brace that to him was far too brief to waste being engaged in battle. So he sat for many days in the fields, not moving but staring at the stone walls as if imprisoned, the grass of their land tinted red would turn yellow in the light of warmth, and the flowers of night would change from their violet into a hue of pinkened flesh. 

 

Many believed that the season of joy was when the God was at his weakest. Moments of serenity bringing forth the gentle nature of a man scorned of affection. That when he sang to the warmth of sun, he sang of life in mystery and wisdom in pity. The knowledge of his life remaining bitter of foul strife. No one had heard his voice reaching, not daring to venture least they interrupt his silenced moments of rarity. 

 

When the hours waned, and Nyx cast herself over the land, one day the God did not move. Remaining as he was, posed with the stream of dark water flowing by him, his eyes never left from the crack in the sky. A young women seeking of expedition came astride from following its flow saw the God in ponderence at the sky and mocked his weakness for the stars shone and Nyx had given them shadow was all he sought an escape? In a mood of fantastical benevolence the man turned to this women of whom he knew only of whispers and responded:

 

“I follow not in whimsy the flow of the river for it has only a given path.” This angered the women, who in her wicked tongue did sprout a snake of vile and venom, hissing at the man of war. The head was cut from its body and it moved from the ground not growing another, the blade of stone held in Naruto’s hand bore not a droplet of its blood having been sliced to quickly to draw. “Tell me concubine of Madara, do you love your god? Does your heart yarn for him? Has a churib stuck thine affections?” Responded the mocked God, casting the woman the stone he held. Unmoving in her fear of Indra the women barely caught the cold stone. The God stood, his garments flowing down with ease, blood stains darkening in the shadow of Nyx. 

 

“I will incline you mercy for mocking me.” He said, “You have until the sun has cast its last on the field to gain his affections. If the stone bleeds wine you will have succeeded. However, should it seep blood I shall do as I deem fit.” Foreboding words left their mark on the land and the God left with laugher not giving the woman a choice but to take the cursed gift. 

* * *

 

 

On the very next passing night another women having heard the tale came to the field. Unfortunate was it that her feet did tread on the fallen serpent on the ground nearest the water. For although its head was no more the vicious animal did hiss at the foot upon its body. In her shock and apprehension the woman fell into the flowing water, the blood of her maidenhood mingled with the current. Sullying the clarity of liquid with the vile of virginity a voluptuous laugh arose within the fields, overcoming the chill of night in its frigidity. Did make the water bite into her as she rose, in fear of whom had seen her in shameful revealment.

 

Of course before her stood the famed warrior of isolation and beauty. In thought of her life, and in shame of fear she kneeled before him. Crying out apology in hope of being spared for sullying the waters of which he was known to dwell. 

 

“Filth of lies within my stream, corruption I dare not touch. What disgust must bare thee.” The women remained bowed, sure of her demise, her eyes not moving to the one to deliver her. “Yet, rare such penise is shown. Raise your head and speak thy name clear.” As the soldiers of wise, her head rose with no hesitation to meet the cold grey cast eyes of the infamous warrior, her name spilling fast from her. 

 

Naruto gave a moment of silence. “I shall grant you mercy Leuce, concubine of Madara, should you pass my trial.” The God bore no expression, nothing emotional or of feeling did show on his fair visage, only a slate of stone skin and marble eyes. Not passing upon a lie the women nodded eagerly. “Not long past, your sister was found to be with a child.” The young nymph blinked though did not dare deny. “Use the venom of the serpent you have sullied and the lies of your virgin blood to poison her goblet, this will kill the child within her. Thus may my wrath be quelled.” A whisper amongst the roar of the river behind. Young nymph fearful of her life fled asked no questions, and fled to do as he bid. 

 

* * *

 

 

In the morn of the day, the nymph cursed by purpose of life, stove into the halls of Madara with a vile of glass in her hand. A mournful tilt to her smile as she crossed into the dinning hall. She was neither late nor early, and her presence caused no stir, so without need of apologies she took place next to her sister three seats from Madara himself at the head. Many women and men were talking in whispers amongst themselves not wanting to disturb the Ruler he was in the foulest of moods with his steeled eyes closed. 

 

Her own lids weighed heavy on her eyes, still her hand was calm and her motions did not falter, was there fear not inside her? She wondered, a dismal thought, but perhaps it had all fled. 

 

“Sister,” She toned, keeping herself only slightly quieter than the rest of the assembled concubines. Need not draw attention to her own grievous harm. Her sister’s fair beauty spared her little morale, but she could not force herself to free from bonds of life even when it was resorted to the murder of her own relation. “Tell none, but I made a sweetened elixir that rivals Tsunade herself!” Her boast false, her cheer moreso, her hand held steady. She must be sick of the mind. Why did Kushina seek to bless her without fear? 

 

“Do allow me a sip!” The fair women declared. The young nymph smiled, and grasped the silver goblet before her sister, popped the cork from the vile, and with no hesitation spilled the viscous liquid, it made no prominence in the wine not a trace to be seen. The goblet returned to its owners hands and she took a great taste. Only when a droplet landed on her bosom did she let the wine sit on the table once more. “Much a taste to that of mint and the smell of poplar. How divine! Sister surely this must be shared!” Before a protest could reach the now apprehensive women her sister had stood. 

 

“My lord!” A thud echoed within her, and the nymph knew she would surely die. A jest, one cruelty, let her eyes open to sleep and roam! Indeed not, Madara awoke with a blooded stare, yet sat patient and unmoving from his grand chair. Awaiting reasoning. “My sister crafted an elixir you must behold! When mixed with our wine Tsunade would be envious.” This made the man move, a carved smile of intrigue sat upon his face, and while not cruel Leuce felt herself stiffen at the turning of his mouth. 

 

Minthe, her sister grasped the silver goblet once more, and handed it to the God of the Underworld as his hand was outstretched for it. Once received he observed it for a moment before he took a sip of their contents. A moment passed, all looking to him for what he thought. Finally, he gave an inclination of his head towards Leuce, the women gave smile, a pleasant thrill that she had pleased their God. The cold of the river no longer flowing through her veins. 

 

“A tone of pomegranates, scent of narcissus, how pleasant Leuce.” Beside her, confused her sister pondered, yet held her tongue, not one to dispute his words. Leuce held herself steady, avoiding her own wine and simply breaking her fast. 

 

* * *

 

 

Thusly in seven days passed, a women hidden in the sheets of the Ruler of the Death rose herself from embrace. Facing bare-as-born the candlelight of the darkened room. Her hand approached the stone coated in red on the mantle of the fire her hands feeling little, no warmth or cold from the liquid. She held the stone in her palms, quandary on how she would know what flowed.

 

Her hands held tremors as she cupped the liquid in palm and brought it to her lips. Metal so bitter it sting filled her stomach, yet she could not stop drinking the crimson. Disgust did nothing to aid her as she drank more and more, her mouth overflowing as the blood seeped from her lips onto her naked chest and the floor beneath. Thoughts strayed blindly to her unborn child, what harm would this cause? 

 

* * *

 

 

“Fools of court.” Sang the lone God tending to his pomegranates on the field bathed in nights shadow. 

 

“Disgrace of name and season, to behold their own demise. Oh! Fools of court!” He continued to sing, even as the panicked footfalls on stone sounded away from him, soon falling onto red grass. A young nymph stricken by her own deeds did face him.

 

“I did as you bid. My sister drinks the blood of a cursed stone!” For a moment the God did nothing, before he laughed, not remorseful at the turn. Wicked peels of humour, that caused quaking shoulders to lose motion and breath to cease. When they had calmed, the man grinned cruelly, a farce of pity on his features. 

 

“A mercy I bestowed, your sister did fail. Your guilt consumes.” The women gleaned tears in her eyes, none had before been shed on the red field. “Pity I give unto thee and thy sibling.” He said, pitiful not gracing mind, as his eyes sparked grey in the gloom. Anger awash as his hair lifted into the spikes of a beast itself. 

 

The nymph screamed as her limbs tore themselves moving independently, separately, agonizingly. Twisting and twining together in tandem. Flesh tearing wide, splitting open as blood seeped from each wound. A cold light encompassed her easing the pain of torment, before she felt no more. 

 

The God breathed low, a smile of little, as he stared at what he had done, unsure by the result. Although fitting, he thought. Nyx’s moon illuminated the remains of the women well. His anger dissipated now, he could find beauty in the women now that she no longer held motion. 

 

Resounding, resonating, repeating laugher remained until Eos drew herself forth. 

 

A new white poplar tree glowed on the riverside.

 

* * *

 

 

The might of the Ruler of Death came rare to his people. On the finding of his favourite concubine absent and having been cursed by the local outsider was enough to strike his ire. Upon finding the mint sprout steeped in blood he had held no disillusions to whom had done the deed. The ground shook at his temper as it flared, walking with fire seeping from his toes and hands curled into fists, all present knew to make way. He had heard from all rumours of the supposed field where the man inclined himself as his own. This was not where he ventured, instead he strode opposing the river. 

 

Finding himself at the cliff of Tartarus, Kurama’s lare screaming below his own as a brutal reminder of positioning in their family. There he saw the much whispered God staring into the abysmal abyss, absent in thoughts. Instead of a dignified posture, the man was lain. Red and long chiton exposing all of his legs and leaving little to imaginings, draped uncaringly over exposed shoulders. Flames casting glow on his skin and brightening his hair. 

 

Madara felt lust, licentious, lascivious, in manner form in his most primal desires, did churn his opinion. 

 

“Minthe is dead on your hand.” He spoke, the exotic -erotic- God turned to him, not uncaringly as his certainly hadn’t been expecting the Ruler’s presence. For his eyes were wide, but blessed were they with a look of innocence as a child would have, almost in forfeit for conviction. Although clearly not underestimating, Naruto simply sat himself up holding his knees nearest his chest, not defensive, calm in the fact of chaos. 

 

“She wondered, aimless, insulted, and was punished.” A fact, undeniable if one knew the woman, which he had. Cruel though it had been, perhaps the other God held a true justification. Even so, mind made, the King made his decision of repentance. 

 

“Ever still, my heir is no more due to thine malice. So, repentance you now yours to bare.” The man did not move, unaffected by such news, obvious was it that he had been aware before casting the woman to the confines of a meager plant to be stomped on. Simple bleak grey eyes stared at him in the casting of stone, accepting such terms. “In place you will share my bed tonight.” This garnered reaction, a flitch, so the man had fear in his heart after all. Madara had heard the claims of ripe virginity, but he had never before believed. 

 

“Very well.” He lay back down, held stiff however, arms remaining crossed against his chest and his legs were forward as an arrow. Gazing once more to Tartarus. Long mused and curled hair spanning below him tinted red. What beauty for one so cruel. Having done what he intended with bent influence, the God took his leave. “In plain Kurama, your quest shalt not be fruitful. Too stubborn a nature.” Madara cast a glance behind him, never having known the God to speak to anyone in anything other than a growl. 

 

Not having cleared the area as of yet he caught onto the sent of narcissa's, he followed himself and followed them. Unaware of the water’s flow following fluidly his movements. Therein he came across a field with an abundance of narcissia’s surrounding pomegranates, all bathed within the glow of the Titan Selena, and held in the embraces of Nyx’s night shadow. A luminous white poplar sat near the river’s edge drinking the water as it desired. 

 

Deciding not to linger, he picked himself a single pomegranate before returning to his palace, expectancy of at least one guest this night. 

 

* * *

 

 

Upon reaching the hallowed halls of Madara Naruto did falter in his steps. Few Gods and Goddesses lingered in the halls, brethren of his of whom he knew little. The concubines however were plentiful. Eyes followed his movements, and he met them equal with nature of indifference. He was a God indeed, though his role had not made prominence, this was of certainty, they were no more clever than the mortals of above corrupted in sin. He halted in the dining hall, for he saw a steam, very small of sunlight in peeking through the windows. 

 

Curiosity lead him astray, moving his feet for him, his arms outstretched as they opened the large wooden doors, hushed voices behind he paid no heed as he stepped out into a meadow. The reddened grass beneath him was meant for bare feet. So he removed his sandals and relished in the feeling of warm grass. The sun was lighter here then in his field, it warmed the skin rather than a mere kiss in beckoning. There were flowers in bloom around him. His eyes roamed upwards. Stepping ever further into the warm embrace. 

 

His toe brushed of something, not grass, he looked down almost having crushed it underfoot, a single stock of mint peeked up at him from the ground. He brushed gentle fingers on one of its leafs, under the sun pitying the plant for being small and so easily missed. 

 

“You lighten in the sun.” The God turned, finding the eyes of the Lord of the Underworld seeking his own. Tall and ethereal in the light, Naruto felt claws in his chest, a pain he had known as the claws of Cerberus or Kurama when he had slashed at his flesh. Regret. Painfully his eyes sparkled as the light reached them, a glisten of kindness. 

 

Madara held in his fingers a single seed of the pomegranate, he held the seed to the God’s cheek, as a tear fell. It blessed the seed, did a green root brush through the casing. 

 

“Eat of this seed, and the warmth within you shall burn once more.” Naruto looked at the King.

 

“Of mine own making?” He asked.

 

“Of thy darkness, of Kushina’s wrath and the harm of fouled mind be cleansed, of thee own care.” He responded. A mercy Naruto recognized, madness sought in his mind for once shunned at the face of such kindness. Did he eat of the seed, did his insanity of fear and isolation envelope the bud, and twas extinguished by care of his own design. A clarity of thought returned to him, eyes opened in clear blue clarity. An innocence returned to the young God. 

 

In grief his knees weakened, and he clasped the soil in his hands as his deeds faced him. The mint before him was a mockery to himself as it did nothing. 

 

“A youth of harkened darkness, you shall atone.” Naruto did not decline, the claws of Cerberus reached from his cave to cave at his chest. “My Queen shall you be. Yours the betterment of the people, my heirs shall you bare. Your kindness will speak for you, malevolent tides forgone.” His eyes bore more tears, yet his mouth trembled.

 

“My Lord, surely I must be punished in full.” Fear spoke not, only his reason prevailed him, a young life of childhood benevolence returned. Madara’s stone face turned into that of a sly snake’s smirk. 

 

“My concubines dismissed, not many survive my full attentions.” 

 

Of stone and marble cracking, a hue of blue peaked from the casing, they shattered as a smile stole across the future Queen's lips. 

 

In mockery of Olympus, bore them a smile of fidelity. 


End file.
